


Salt in Your Wounds

by AnnisPekka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bloodplay, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnisPekka/pseuds/AnnisPekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenrir is feeling playful after a boring meeting... Lucius is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt in Your Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> This is another transfer from ffnet, properly revised. Title is from a HIM song.

The big werewolf let out a relieved sigh and stood up from his sprawl on the chair. His face twisted in the menacing sneer the other Death Eaters were used to see on him.

Fenrir cursed the day he had killed his beta, who usually was the one that attended these meetings. The annoying wolf had been useful for at least that one thing. He was a fighter, a killer, not a damned errand boy. He shouldn’t have to take time off from the slaughter to come here and sit among the arrogant wizards to discuss boring stuff like war strategies and why the house elves couldn’t make decent tea…

Honestly, he growled to himself, all they had to do was tell him who the next mark was, and he’d be off for some carnage. But no. He had to wait four hours – and sometimes six, even – until they finally decided which little mudblood was going to perish that night, which pawn was no longer useful to the cause.

Although, if he thought about it really hard, it wasn’t that bad. The wait. It made him itch. All the hunger and anger he repressed during the meetings was then unleashed for the hunt. It made him enjoy it just a little bit more. The way his claws sunk into flesh a little bit deeper. The way blood sprayed upon the walls and his own body with a little more vivacity and colour. It was exquisite, he thought, heart already beating faster from the thought of what was to come.

His sneer turned into a fangy grin as he spotted the Lord Malfoy just a few steps ahead of him.

The wolf was in the mood to play.

 The wizard walked in a steady pace. Not slow, but not fast either. His nose held high, rigid posture, and arrogant swing of black shiny cane. Everything about him said, _I’m above you, I’m better then you – Malfoys do not run_.

They should, said the wolf. Greyback nodded in agreement. They really should.

All others had all but run away from the Dance Hall, where Voldemort held his meetings, leaving behind the two of them in an empty corridor. An empty house even, unless you counted the Dark Lord and his pet snake, behind the closed door that led to the Hall. But that was okay.

He smirked, it was more then okay. Oh, came the thought, he was so going to enjoy this.

With a few stealthy paces, he reached the wizard’s side. He noted a further stiffening of his shoulders, but didn’t comment. The blond’s attempt to ignore him only served to widen the smirk. “Malfoy”, he greeted.

“Greyback.”

“I noticed your wife did not join us tonight. Do her lovers keep her that busy?” Ah, such anger in those eyes.

“How dare you speak to me like this, fool!?” They stopped. Angrily, Lucius turned to his uninvited companion. His right hand gripping the cane so tightly that it whitened his knuckles.

Fenrir turned to face him as well, expression clearly stating how little he cared that he had just insulted one of the most powerful wizards in the country. If he kept smirking like this, his face would start to hurt. But he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh? And what do you intend to do to stop me? Glare until I go away?” He gave one step forward, stomach tingling as the other gave a step back. “Would **you** dare to fight me?” His growl intimidating, he knew, even in the slightly husky tone he had spoken in.

The noble wizard’s grey eyes narrowed as he raised his cane to meet the other hand. However, before he could grip the tip, which, detached from the cane would hold his wand, the werewolf advanced on him and pushed him against the wall.

The blond stood now, back against the fabric of the false curtains, hands imprisoned by Fenrir’s strong grip. “Unhand me, beast!” His voice somewhat affected in alarm. His breath, already rapid from anger, hitched a gasp as the other drew himself closer, until his nose almost touched his own.

“Beast? What do you know about beasts?” Fenrir adjusted his hold on the delicate hands and pushed one muscled thigh between Lucius’ legs. “You’re just a prissy little wizard who does nothing all day but ordering house elves around.” He sniffed the long neck, nose tracing a rough caress down his jaw. “You probably even bathe in rose petals. Like a maiden.” The way the other struggled beneath him made him chuckle. “Are you a maiden, Lucius” he purred.

“To hell with you. I will make you regret this.”

“Oh, will you? Somehow, I doubt it.”

The wolf inside Fenrir gave an appreciating whine as the blond’s eyes grew wide, pupils shrinking to almost a third of their size. He could guess the sight that had made the wizard blanch to such state. When this much excited, his eyes tended to shine an amber glow. The wolf’s canines were present, ready to puncture through skin. The orange light of the setting sun entering the hallway through the window behind him made his hair glow, giving a fiery look to his face.

Standing this close, bodies touching from almost head to toe, he could hear Malfoy’s heartbeat racing. His hands could feel the blood pulsing inside the veins that adorned the thin wrists. He could feel the ragged breaths on the side of his face. The sweet rhythm was making him hard.

The wolf urged him to continue, eager to play. It had been a long time since they had played this way. Too long.

His cock was becoming stiffer by the second. It was impossible for Lucius not to notice. Wanting him to acknowledge once and for all exactly how things would be happening, Fenrir thrust his hips against the other’s. The breathless gasp made him moan.

Before Lucius could breathe in again, a mouth covered his. A hot, scalding tongue invaded him, massaging its way inside. The sharp canines cut his lips, and for the first time in many years, he tasted his own blood.

The iron-like, salty flavour made him quiver, and before he knew it, his own tongue was engaged in battle with the other, mouths moving against each other in hungry, wet kisses.

The fine hands, before balled in tight fists, were now limp, the tips of his fingers only just touching Fenrir’s rough hands.

Letting the man have his breath back, the werewolf moved his mouth to the aristocratic jaw and then the neck, leaving behind a trail of saliva with specks of blood.

He placed both hands in one of his, enabling him to reach Lucius’ scarf and rip it from his neck. The action also thorn apart the upper part of his dark vest. Scarf, green brooch and a few buttons flew through the air before joining the forgotten cane on the floor.

Now able to move his mouth freely across the blond’s neck, he found a particularly tender spot and sucked on it. The sweet flavour of the skin, the arousing scent of the man and the moan that he uttered made Fenrir’s cock shiver in anticipation.

Wanting to feel more, he started once again to thrust his hips into the other. This time, the movement was returned and he could feel the effects he had on the thinner body. The friction caused by rubbing the two erections against each other made them both moan loudly.

Excited, Fenrir bit into the supple neck, once again drawing blood. Without pausing the thrusts, he licked and sucked on the red fluid, hand caressing down the torso. Reaching the end of the vest, he slid his hand inside, callused fingers touching the soft skin of the belly.

Making up his mind, the hand slid down again, sharp nails ripping open the expensive looking slacks. They fell down to Lucius's ankles, and were soon joined by dark green the underpants.

The werewolf touched the hard member, only so slightly. The whine made him smile. He raised his head from the wound, mouth stained red, a few drops falling slowly down his chin.

“What was that” he asked. When the answer didn’t come, he let go and backed away a few feet. His cruel smile back on face as he gazed into the wizard. Not so arrogant now, he thought. On the contrary, he looked absolutely delicious.

Body sagged against the wall, pants at his feet, hard cock weeping, shivering in need. His neck bleeding, as well as his lips. Eyes drowsy, mouth open in silent request. Yes, he looked positively slutty.

“Tell me”, he commanded. “I can’t know what you want if you won’t _tell me_.”

Lucius swallowed. The other’s eyes followed the adam’s apple up and down the exposed throat.

A cold draft passed, and the sensation on his naked cock was too much to bear. “Please”, he said. “I don’t… please.” His voice had dropped to a mumble.

Smiling, the bigger man returned to him. “That’s okay, pet. I’ll take care of you.”

He rested a thumb on the bloody lip, only moving the other hand towards the hot hardness when a red tongue licked the tip of his finger. He gripped the member hard, before moving the hand up and down, milking it slowly, tortuously.

Now breathing open mouthed, moaning between gasps of air, Lucius raised his hands to grip Fenrir’s arms. “Yessss…”

Feeling the moment was right, the werewolf pushed two fingers inside the hot mouth. Understanding what was asked of him, Lucius moved his tongue to wet them. Once he was satisfied, Fenrir removed them and knelt down before the other wizard.

Before the lord could say anything, a wet mouth covered his member, and all thought left his mind. The sensations invaded his entire being and he could do nothing but tremble than ask for more.

A hand caressed Lucius’ inner thigh, moving up to seize a buttock. Still sucking, Fenrir inserted a wet finger into the other man’s passage. The tiny jump he gave made him nick the member and along with the first drops of semen, he now tasted fresh blood. The new taste made him bold and soon after, a second finger joined the first.

The ministrations were taking its toll on the aristocratic man. With a small whimper, his legs buckled and his grip on Greyback’s shoulders was now the only thing holding him up. Another sob reached Fenrir’s ears as he removed his mouth and fingers from him.

The cruel werewolf rose once again and plastered himself onto Lucius. With a thrust of his still dressed hips, he whispered on his ear, “Do you want more? Do you want me to finish it?” His only response was a moan, followed by a nod.

Quickly, Fenrir grabbed him and turned him around. With a foot, he spread the other’s legs as far apart as the pants allowed. Watching Lucius turn his head to rest a cheek against the rough cloth, he opened his pants to free his own hardness.

He approached and, with a hard thrust, penetrated the wizard. A loud gasp followed and, standing now with his chest against his back, face close to the other’s, he noticed how pale Lucius’ skin was comparing it to the angry red flush of his cheeks.

With a grunt, he attached his mouth to the puncture wounds he had made earlier, making them bleed again. Never stopping the thrusts, he continued sucking on the delicate neck, holding onto the fabric hanging in front of Lucius.

As he felt himself approaching his climax, his mouth let go of the neck, taking a fair amount of the precious liquid in it. With help of a hand, he turned the blond’s head and covered his mouth with his own. The kiss mixed saliva and blood and breath. Without parting, Fenrir gave one final push and, with a growl that made Lucius swallow the mixture, he spilled his seed inside him.

Taking a few breaths, he then pushed himself off of the other man, his soft member leaving its warm cocoon with a wet sound.

As he pulled his pants closed, he gazed back at the other wizard. Lucius was still resting against the curtains, legs still spread apart. His face flushed in shame and arousal, white seed dripping down his thighs.

It was an image Greyback would remember for a long time afterwards.

He moved to leave, following the direction the others had not that long before. “Hey, wait” came the raspy request. “what about me? You said-” A laugh interrupted him.

“Lucius, Lucius... I don’t have time for cuddling.” He approached the half-naked man and slid a hand between him and the wall. Feeling the still hard erection, he gave one last kiss on the flushed cheek. “I have a hunt to begin, pet. If you want me to finish this”, he squeezed slightly, earning a moan, “you’ll have to wait until I’m done with that.”

He withdrew the hand, and smiled at the whine. He turned his back on him, this time for good, and with a lanky step, he left the now dark hallway.

He didn’t look behind him, but he knew he was leaving a very flustered and very frustrated wizard, hanging onto the dark red cloth, panting in need for him.

And somehow, he knew that when he came back, a few hours later, he would be waiting. For him.

 


End file.
